No experience in my life is ever going to be as bizarre as the day I spent with Prince at his Paisley Park retreat where he was found dead today.

I was privileged to be given a rare insight into his secretive world, and his first interview with a British newspaper for a decade, because the Daily Mirror was exclusively releasing his album 20TEN as a free CD giveaway to every reader.

The rock legend showed me around his famous studio, treated me to a private performance, invited me to jam on stage in his private concert hall and threw a "party" just for me in his private nightclub.

Our interview, in July 2010, had been on and off for weeks.

Then I was suddenly phoned one afternoon by his manager in London and told he would see me as long as I could get to his fun factory, near Minneapolis... by the following morning.

The manager then added firmly: "DON'T bring a camera, mobile phone or tape recorder - or it's all off. "

After a transatlantic dash, I was met by one of his backing singers, Shelby Johnson, waiting to drive me to Paisley Park - an address that was as synonymous with Prince as Neverland was with Michael Jackson.

Entering Paisley Park

I had envisaged a gothic purple palace at the end of a winding lane, but it turned out to be a huge white 70,000 square foot building, resembling an industrial complex, on a busy main road. It looked like the last place you would expect to find Prince's studios, a concert hall and even his own private nightclub.

Prince's mansion looked VERY different on the inside

Shelby showed me into the lobby, kitted out in the style of a 1950's American diner and, before I had chance to sit down, Prince strode in, beaming, with hand outstretched.

I was amazed. Where was the superstar entourage - burly security, manic PRs and personal assistants? There was no-one else around.

"Hi," he said, "I'm so glad you could come." His voice was deeper than I expected, he was certainly small (5ft 2in at most), looked almost half his age, and was dressed immaculately, if oddly, in white silk trousers, flouncy green silk shirt, an ivory tunic and white pumps (which, I suspect, were stacked).

"You must come and listen to the album," he said. "I hope you like it. It's great that it will be free to readers of your newspaper. I really believe in finding new ways to distribute my music."

He explained that he decided the album would be released in CD format only in the Mirror in the UK. He no longer trusted the record industry and there would be no downloads anywhere in the world because of his battles against internet abuses.

"The internet's completely over"

Unlike most other rock stars, he had banned YouTube and iTunes from using any of his music and had even closed down his own official website.

He said: "The internet's completely over. I don't see why I should give my new music to iTunes or anyone else. They won't pay me an advance for it and then they get angry when they can't get it.

"The internet's like MTV. At one time MTV was hip and suddenly it became outdated. Anyway, all these computers and digital gadgets are no good.

"They just fill your head with numbers and that can't be good for you."

Then he led me to his recording studio in the complex and invited me to sit in his leather swivel chair at the enormous mixing desk.

Prince's recording studio, as pictured in 2014

Wow! I had finally arrived at the epicentre of Prince's world - the scene of fabled all-night recording sessions in which he apparently played up to 27 instruments.

This is where the genius behind classics such as Purple Rain, When Doves Cry, 1999 and Let's Go Crazy created his great music. The walls were a vibrant reddish purple, flickering candles lined every ledge and the smell of incense filled the air.

Prince jabbed a few buttons and hidden speakers burst into life with my preview. He looked at me for a reaction and I told him it was brilliant, as indeed it was.

"This one's called Compassion," said Prince. But as I tried to jot down the title he looked aghast, grabbed my wrist and pleaded: "Please, please. It's a surprise, don't spoil it for people."

A religious man

He told me how these were trying times and to emphasise the point, chivvied me into another room, switched on the TV and showed me an evangelical TV documentary blaming corporate America for a range of woes from Hurricane Katrina to asthmatic children.

He said that one problem was that "people, especially young people, don't have enough God in their lives".

With missionary zeal, Prince talked about his beliefs and how he had been door-to-door to convert non-believers. But when I asked him anything remotely personal, he was extremely brusque.

Questions about his childhood were met with: "I don't talk about the past."

On his relationship with his then girlfriend Bria Valente, he said: "Self interest is on the back-burner now."

And on late friend/foe Michael Jackson, he simply replied: "Next question."

Time for another surprise. "Come!" he said, and like an excitable Willy Wonka, he led me down corridors, lined with glinting platinum discs, to a lounge where his three talented backing singers, Shelby Johnson, Olivia Warfield and Elisa Fiorilla, were waiting by an ebony futuristic grand piano. I suspected they had been waiting for us for some time.

Prince indicated I should sit down on a solitary seat in the centre of the room as he started singing a rousing track Act of God.... especially for me.

Surreal wasn't the word. I thanked them profusely, Prince smiled and sent me off for dinner. But as it was "only" 10pm he suggested we regrouped back there in an hour "to party".

As he had a reputation as the Prince of Darkness for not starting gigs until 2am or leaving clubs until dawn, my expectations ran high. When I returned later, he welcomed me warmly into his private nightclub.

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Partying with Prince

It was lavishly kitted out with velvet circular sofas, a dancefloor and there was a chrome stairway up to a balcony.

On two huge screens, at least 20ft high, there were videos of him performing.

But where were the guests? And where was the bar? I was suddenly reminded that he was a strict teetotal vegan as one of those backing singers wandered in... and offered me a glass of still water.

She was closely followed by the other two singers, carrying trays of sliced melon and raw vegetables, which they placed on a long table beside a large Bible. "Help yourself," said one.

Prince arrived with girlfriend Bria, dressed as if she had come to the Oscars, in a shimmering full-length evening gown.

Prince and Bria Valenta, pictured in Paris in 2009, made a glamorous couple (Image: Getty)

Twice married and divorced, he had been with the singer, who was almost half his age, for three years at that stage.

He produced her first solo album Elixer the previous year and she joined the Jehovah's Witnesses. He introduced her, she looked around at the empty nightclub and said: "Sorry, I think I'm a little overdressed!"

They popped out for a minute and returned, with her proudly holding a food blender filled with a banana smoothie which they poured into glasses for themselves.

Just when it couldn't get any more bizarre, Prince clambered behind a stack of video equipment under the stairs and started showing us 1970s clips from the US TV show Soul Train of his heroes such as Marvin Gaye and Barry White.

He urged his guests - all five of us - to dance and the spirited backing singers began moving around the dancefloor as if they were having the time of their lives.

Prince emerged occasionally to study the screens a bit closer. But every time I tried to chat to him he darted back under the stairs, shouting: "Too many questions."

From his agility, it was clear rumours he needed a double hip op after too much dancing on high heels were unfounded. But, after an hour or so, he had had enough of his party and asked me to follow him. Off we went again, down yet more corridors of platinum discs, we passed iconic guitars and that famous bike from Purple Rain.

And now I'm playing the drums for Prince...

He had decided to take me to his private concert hall, which, with a capacity of more than 1,000 people, was awesome.

Pride of place was a huge Love Symbol #2 - the name of the symbol he had changed his name to when he fell out with his old label Warners.

He said: "It's what I always dreamed of when I was a young musician, playing in the basement. Music is my life. It's my trade. If I can't get it out of my head I can't function. Someone told me they saw me at my peak, but how do they know when my peak is? I think I'm improving all the time. When I listen to my old records I'm ashamed of how I played then."

Prince thought playing the guitar had kept him youthful (Image: Getty)

Then he shouted: "Get yourself an instrument." And next minute, he was arranging an impromptu jamming session... with him at his famous purple grand piano, flanked by his backing singers and me on the drums.

It didn't take long for him to realise I had no rhythm.

Just two minutes into the Beatles classic, Come Together, when I thought I was really getting into my stride, I become aware he was staring over at me in disbelief and wincing.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" he shouted and slammed his hand down on the piano. Laughing, he added: "Have you ever seen The Apprentice on TV? Cos You're fired!"

I protested. Let's take it from the top again, I suggested. But it was too late. I'd blown it.

Still, there can't be many people who've been hired and fired by Prince, all in the space of two minutes.

As Prince said farewell, having nothing to lose, I cheekily pulled out a camera and asked for a picture.

He shook his head. "It's much better in the memory bank," he said. Then he turned to a backing singer and said. "The picture will make your eyes look red and they will use it really big."

A few days later, on returning to London, I got a clearer idea of why he had managed to fall out with so many people in the entertainment industry.

Prince, who was renowned as a perfectionist, tried to force us to scrap the album - apparently because he had gone off one of the tracks - but the CDs had already been pressed and we had watertight contracts.

Sadly, for all the time I spent with him, I don't think I got much closer than anyone else to understanding the brilliant, crazy, little genius whose music defined an era.